


Turnabout's Fair Play

by ViciousRhythm



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Embarrassment, F/M, Gen, Humor, the perc'ahlia is background but important, well-intentioned nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousRhythm/pseuds/ViciousRhythm
Summary: Percy intends to pay Vex back for her sudden nudity the night before their fight with Thordak, but as with many of his plans, it of course goes awry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a convo between blackestglass and luxheroica, [over here](http://blackestglass.tumblr.com/post/154296455684/yall-i-had-a-beautiful-thought-and-i-just-needed)  
> Hopefully this is the kind of future we'll have because absolutely no one is allowed to die in tomorrow's episode

It’s always a hard lesson to learn - over and over again - that Percy is not as clever as he thinks he is. There are times when it’s a painful lesson, and the consequences are literally life and death, so he’d take the more mundane repetitions of it any day of the week, but that doesn’t make it any less mortifying when it happens.

For example:

It’s only in the aftermath of their battle with Thordak that Percy has the time and wherewithal to recall the fact that Vex had definitely decided she was done waiting and answered the door for him _completely naked_. And that takes a form of guts and certainty that Percy has only achieved a few times in his life. One being when he tried to stab an ancient green dragon in a room full of people, but he digresses.

The fact Vex has apparently made it a habit to just... _be naked_ around him is staggering and also one of the best things that has ever happened to Percy. Of course neither of them was going to backslide into _not_ being together, but Percy expected to perhaps just go on as things have been, with another layer of affection and intimacy added to it. Vex is quite gifted at destroying his expectations.

In some ways, his prediction for them is correct. They are still members of Vox Machina, and therefore thrown into more ridiculous and life-threatening situations than is statistically believable. He still enjoys the repartee between Vex and himself, and Vax narrows his eyes at them with alarming regularity. Vex doesn’t suddenly change and become somehow _more_ to Percy, because she was always more. Or, at least, she became what she is to him so gradually and naturally that he can’t recall when things changed. He can only pinpoint the moment when he himself stopped feeling as though to pursue anything more than friendship with Vex would be ruinous.

Dying gives a man perspective - even more so than _almost_ dying, which Percy has done plenty of times. It’s a perspective he’s vowed not to take for granted and forget, and though Percy is nothing like a perfect man and slips often enough, taking chances is one lesson that sticks with him. There’s nothing gained with nothing risked, and it can’t only apply to the negative things in his life, thus kissing Vex in that snowy ravine while riding on the tails of adrenaline. Thus bringing a bag full of alcohol to her room with every intention of sorting things out between them. Thus his frustration that Vex seems to be the only one pulling the rug out lately.

Aside from her habit of sleeping in the nude whenever they are afforded a place to sleep with actual walls, Percy has encountered his...girlfriend? Vex, anyway, naked more than he feels is fair. Not that he’s complaining, but she reduces him to shocked silence and unfortunate babbling every time she waltzes in sans clothing. For a man who fancies himself clever, it’s quite frustrating.

And so he plans, because that is what Percival does. He plans to get her back in kind, hoping to the gods that Vex will at the very least be pleasantly surprised when the tables are turned on her. He’s not the most physically confident man by any means, but he’s also not stupid enough to have missed that Vex enjoys his body. She has a particular fondness for his hands, shoulders, and the sharp peaks of his hipbones, meaning that he is presented with the challenge of trying to find a way to pose himself that puts those things on best display while waiting for her to come to his - their? - room.

He’s still standing with his back turned to the door, frowning contemplatively at the bed, when the doorknob turns. Percy only has precious moment to compose himself, so he jumps at the sound and throws himself onto the bed. It’s not the perfect setup, but then the point here is returning the favor of Vex’s very much appreciated penchant for nudity.

Percy is proud of himself for all of a few seconds, nearly smug in the knowledge that he’ll finally have caught Vex off guard. And then the door swings open and it is...not Vex.

For a moment, the room is deathly silent and still as Percy stares blankly at Keyleth, the smirk frozen on his face in horrified shock. It lasts only a moment, and then there is a flurry of motion as Percy dives for a pillow, blanket, _anything_ to cover himself, and Keyleth slaps both hands over her eyes.

“Keyleth,” he hisses, face on fire and clutching a pillow over his groin in his best attempt to retain some dignity. “We’ve talked about _knocking_ on doors!”

“I know,” Keyleth says, voice shrill almost to the point of breaking. He can’t see her face behind her hands, but Percy suspects they’re sporting matching bright red cheeks. “But Cassandra said it was -”

“It’s rather urgent, Perciv…” Cassandra trails off as she walks into the doorway, polite composure slipping but nowhere near as fractured as her brother’s. It is at that moment that Percy realizes this must not be reality. He must have slipped into a nightmare while waiting for Vex to show up. The alternative is so horrendously embarrassing, Percy might be moved to simply live in his workshop forever to avoid facing his sister and closest friend for the remainder of his life.

“Cassandra,” Percy acknowledges flatly, hands fisted in his life-saving pillow desperately. He can’t manage to make himself say anything else, all train of thought lost to the notion that he will never live this down. Keyleth and Cassandra are both too courteous to humiliate him further by recounting the story to the rest of Vox Machina, and that is his only saving grace. However, they share a habit for being amused by his missteps, and Percy can’t imagine ever looking either of them in the eye again and being taken seriously. Which is unfortunate, given anything urgent from Cassandra lately seems to be something that requires Percy to act as though he has any idea what he’s doing leading the people of Whitestone.

“Percival,” Cassandra says, matching his tone and carefully redirecting her gaze a few inches above his left shoulder. “While I’m glad to see you are in good physical health, I must ask you to make yourself decent. There are a number of ambassadors that are refusing to deal with anyone but the ‘lord of the house’.”

From her voice, Percy can tell Cassandra is irritated with their guests, but there is an undercurrent of badly concealed amusement and a twitch at the corner of her mouth that betrays a struggle to keep from laughing. Beside her, Keyleth has turned so red it’s begun to creep past where her hands are cupped over her face, and she nods mutely along as Cassandra speaks. The way she’s clutching at her own face, Keyleth might be the most absurd sight here if Percy weren’t presently clothed in a well-placed pillow.

“I will meet you in the foyer with all due haste,” Percy says, falling to protocol and elevated language as some bizarre panic reaction. He’s strangely, acutely aware of his thin legs sticking out at odd angles, unable to look in Keyleth or Cassandra’s vicinity any longer. He stares at his own knees instead and can just about feel his pride shrivel and die. If their guests only knew what state Cassandra found the so-called lord in, he has no doubt they would elect to deal with her instead, age notwithstanding. For a hysterical moment, he almost entertains the thought of telling his sister to simply report that Percival is currently naked and indisposed with Lady Vex’ahlia, just to skip the step of explaining that Cassandra is the only one they’ll be dealing with anyway.

“See that you do,” Cassandra says, a bit of laughter leaking into her voice. “I would threaten to send Vex to fetch you, but I think that might be counterproductive at this point.”

“Get out of my room.” He may not be able to gather the tattered shreds of his dignity at this point, but Percy refuses to let the situation get so bad his _little sister_ starts making innuendos. She’s picked up some rather unfortunate habits from his friends, but Percy draws the line here. It’s a sad, sorry line in the sand, but it’s all he has just now.

“Absolutely!” Keyleth chimes in, voice still oddly high. She gropes blindly for Cassandra’s arm a moment, finding it eventually and wrenching the younger woman after her away from the door. It slams behind them, muffling the sound of Cassandra bursting into ungraceful giggles, leaving Percy sitting alone and stock-still for a handful of breaths. As soon as their footsteps fade, his posture sags and Percy collapses backward, groaning. Embarrassment burns all the way down his bare chest and curls like soured milk in his stomach.

Keyleth is sure to avoid him like the plague for a while, and Percy can hardly predict what Cassandra will do, he’s still so new to the process of relearning even _having_ a younger sister, but he can’t imagine it will go terribly well for him.  Throwing his gods-blessed pillow angrily at the headboard, Percy forces himself to stand, snatching his trousers off the floor. Hopping to get them up over his hips, Percy pauses with a horrifying thought. Keyleth and Cassandra walking in on him naked is surely one of the more humiliating points in his life, but it could have been infinitely worse. Gods forbid it had been Vax, or arguably worse, Scanlan.

With that distressing notion, Percy shoves himself into his clothes and prays his face will have at least calmed down enough to stop resembling a strawberry by the time he makes it to the foyer. Given his luck today, it’s highly doubtful.


End file.
